Sarah vs The Worst Thing Imaginable
by TheRealJules
Summary: She went missing six months ago. Chuck nearly killed himself getting her back. He could only wonder what she had been through, but she's the one who has to live with it. How will she recover? Will he ever be able to look at her the same? MAJOR whump. TRIGGER WARNING: Rape, torture.
1. In the Thick of It

A/N. So, don't hate me. I really don't know where this came from, I usually don't write dark. And this is... very dark. I'm going to give you the first two chapters tonight because personally I would freak out if I just read the first one. This isn't the kind of thing I really want to give you suspense on.

 ** _Serious triggers for rape, abuse, torture, PTSD, and every ugly thing in the universe._** This was a tough one to write and it will probably be pretty hard to read. I'm sorry.

Sarah Walker considered herself to be an incredibly strong person. But… no one is that strong.

The first week, she felt that she was just biding her time. She knew he would come. By the end of that week, her situation was starting to take its toll. Her wrists had been rubbed raw by the rusting metal restraints, bound too tightly. By day three her fingers were constantly tingling. At the end of the first week, she couldn't feel them at all, but could see that they were grotesquely swollen, and a nasty shade of purple. At the end of week two, they blocked all forms of light entering her cell so she couldn't even see her hands. She asked them, each time they came to deliver food or water in a bowl for her to drink from like a dog, " _why_ , why are you doing this to me?" They hadn't asked her a single question, they hadn't asked for an ounce of information.

It seemed all they really wanted, was to torture. She was pretty sure they were more interested in torturing Chuck than anything else. She felt certain, when after week two they came in to take a picture of her, that they had sent it to him. She also knew something was wrong. If Chuck knew she was being tortured, and he knew where she was, _she_ knew there was nothing that would stop him from coming to save her. She guessed that they were wrong, and he didn't have what they were looking for, and he had no idea where they were hiding her. Her guesses were usually right.

So yes, she believed, given the fact that for the first three weeks of her incarceration, no one had laid a hand on her, that their intention was not to get anything from her. However, in her experience, these kinds of guys get bored fast. Especially when they're sitting around keeping watch, doing nothing.

Torture didn't particularly scare Sarah. She'd been tortured before, she'd probably be tortured again (if she lived through this one, that is). But by the end of the fourth week, her solitude leaving her completely alone with her thoughts, she was nervous.

From there, it would only get worse. _Beautiful monster,_ one of the guards would call her in Russian every day as he came to taunt her, eventually getting to what she knew would happen in time. He took out a knife, dragging the blade on her jawline, from her ear to her neck, a trail of blood leaking from the path he had cut. She didn't make a sound. With a swift motion, he cut her shirt in half before ripping her bra, soaked in blood and urine and who knows what else, clean in half, exposing her to him. She shut her eyes tightly, and he grabbed her chin. _Not so beautiful do you feel now, Monster, eh?_ She opened her eyes and spat in his face, despite her extraordinarily dry mouth. The man's disgusting smile twisted into a horrifying frown as he wiped his face with the remnants of her shirt. _You should not have done that, little monster._ She predicted his next move and made an attempt to knock him down with her legs, despite them being restrained. He caught them easily and she was unsurprised when he took his knife to her leggings, ripping them off of her as easily as he had done the shirt. She was weak. She had lost so much muscle in the last month of lying there on the floor, waiting to die.

Never had she ever wanted to die so much as she did that night. He touched her like she was an animal being led to slaughter. She was sure he had fractured her upper arm from gripping her so tightly as he slammed into her, over, and over, and over. He put his hand on her mouth to stop her from begging. She couldn't breathe. Oh yes, she wished that she was dead.

It continued on this same way every day, for month, after month. She lost track of the hours, she lost track of the days, she would go days at a time without stringing together a coherent thought. As time went on, it seemed they had stopped even trying to get what they wanted out of Chuck, and had agreed they had found themselves a nifty little play thing in this _beautiful monster._ She certainly felt like a monster. He or the others would come when they came, leave when they left, and she did everything she could not to notice the in between. Occasionally, a spark of herself would come back to life, and she would try to fight back. This would always make it worse. Her left eye had been swollen shut for what felt like forever, since every time it would start to heal, she'd be met with a brutal right hook of a man four times her size. She came to acknowledge the only thing she had in her life: the sound of the lock clicking.

Six months come and gone, the only time she would make a noise was when that lock would click. She would let out blood-curdling screams when it signaled entrance, hoping that someone, anyone, would hear her, take pity, and just kill her instead. What was worse to her, was the uncontrollable sobbing as they met their exit. She thought of one thing, and one thing only to calm herself down: him. He was out there, he was searching for her, and he would stop at nothing to find her.

It was a day like any other. Today, she was given a cup of what appeared to be dog food. In a few days, she'd be given a cup of water. As per usual, she refused. She just wanted to die, and didn't care how. If starvation was the way, so be it. But they were on to her, and one man held her down to the ground by the chest as the other forced the food down her throat, choking and retching all the time.

 _Is it your turn, or mine, Nikolai?_

The man pouring food down her throat laughed and looked into her face before spitting on her face, and saying, _I could go for a turn with this one. Girl down the hall doesn't seem interested anymore._ Sarah winced. If Sarah seemed interested to him, what could it mean if someone else _isn't?_

 _I'll get the door for you, sir Mikhail._ Nikolai exited the room, and Mikhail turned to face Sarah, lifting her up on his lap. Though they had untied her hands and feets months ago (she was too weak to go anywhere, and they knew it), she was powerless to stop him.

He leaned his head into the caverness crook of her skinny neck, biting her collarbone to the point where she was sure there would be indentations in the bone. She had similar scars along every inch of her body. Mikhail was a biter.

 _You have no idea what I'm going to do to you, you shit-covered monster._ She did know. She didn't need to be imaginative.

She thought she imagined something else, for a moment. A crashing noise, coming from the hallway, off in the distance. Mikhail didn't seem to notice, as he was busy with his pants.

Then, another crash. That's when she heard shouting.


	2. Coming Out of the Woods

" _SARAH!"_ a flood like nothing she had ever experienced came over her and she fell to the ground as Mikhail shoved her off of him and ran to the door, leaving it unlocked behind him in his haste. Gunfire rang out through the underground tunnels as she saw them for the first time. " _SARAH!"_ He was okay, still shouting for her.

Too weak to shout for him, she used every bit of strength she had in her to crawl towards the door, suddenly thankful that they had been shoving food down her throat that week. _Chuck._ She could barely even whisper. She collapsed on the floor, halfway through the door. Barely conscious, she struggled to keep her eyes open. Her front side lay flat on the ground, with her head turned towards the hallway she had heard noise from.

As suddenly as the noise had began, it ended, save for the singular set of footsteps she heard running in her direction. Dazed by the light of the hallway, it was all she could do to remain conscious and whispering, over and over, _Chuck, Chuck, Chuck._

She saw him before he saw her, and as soon as she did, the tears she had come to know so well starting pouring out of her. "Oh my god, Sarah, Sarah, baby, everything is okay now, they won't hurt you anymore, oh my god, _Sarah."_ He knelt down next to her as the team of agents he brought with him ran past him deeper into the tunnels. He showed her his empty hands as he held them up to her. "I'm going to pick you up, okay, Sarah? And we're going to get you out of here. Blink if you understand me." Her eyes fluttered shut, and she wasn't sure if she could open them again. "Sarah?" She opened her eyes and looked at him, barely seeing, her breathing ragged. His voice shook, his voice equally ragged, "Okay, stay with me baby, we're going to get you out of here." Slowly, he worked his hands towards her with the intent of flipping her over onto her back.

The moment his hands made contact with her, she tensed so hard her whole body seemed to shrink. He didn't take his hands off of her, even though her breathing was increasing. "Sarah, look at me," she did, "I'm going to roll you over and pick you up, and get you out of here, and I'm so sorry for how that is going to feel in between." She used everything she could to nod, trying to force her brain into remembering the feeling of his hands. His _good_ hands. Her breathing slowed slightly as he picked her up, turning her body towards his and cradling her head on his chest. He walked gingerly in the direction of the light. "Close your eyes, Sarah, the light is going to be really bright to you."

"Chuck," She said it so quietly she wasn't sure he'd heard her, but she felt him take a sharp intake of breath.

Even so weak, he recognized her sense of urgency, "Sarah, what is it?"

"Chuck, there are other monsters here." She didn't recognize the sound of her own voice as she said what came naturally to her, she had gone so long without using it. "You have to save us."

Chuck stuttered as they reached the light, "M-m-monsters?" Sarah looked up at his eyes, and she was sure he had never seen anything more disgusting than the monster he was looking at in that moment.

"Save us." and in that moment, she released her hold on consciousness, certain that now that he had saved her, and seen who she had become, he would be gone before she even woke up.

When she woke up, she could tell that not much time had passed. She took in the jostling movement and judged that she was probably in an ambulance. She opened her eyes and instantly was flooded with white light. Was this death? The thing that she had begged for for so long, and had been denied to her? She started groaning and writhing in her seat, desperate to get away from the light. _He's only just found me, I can't die now._ The guttural noises that come from inside her were foreign to her. As she adjusted to the light, she recognized a few things: she was covered in a blanket up to her neck, lying on something foreign, something that wasn't a gravel floor, there was an IV in her arm, and two shapes standing over her- one small, the other tall. She went to move her arms, to push herself up, and found her arms restrained.

This sent her into panic. She heard shouting coming from the shapes above her as she writhed and thrashed against the restraints. Her heart hammered in her chest and her breath left her rapidly, as if trying to escape.

"Doctor! She's going into shock!"

" _I told you_ restraining her was a terrible idea! _Look at her hands!_ Sarah, baby, listen to me, everything is going to be okay, I'm going to touch your arm okay, it's me, Chuck, and we're just going to give you something to make it hurt less, okay baby? I'm so sorry." His voice hitched in his chest at the last word. Despite refusing to open her eyes to the light, she could tell he was crying. It had a calming effect like no drug could. She remembered a time when she used to protect him from pain.

Still, she felt Chuck's hands on her arm, and the sedative was administered, and it would be a long time before she would see that light again.

When she woke up, she was not in an ambulance anymore, and it was dark. Fear overwhelmed her for a moment before realizing that it wasn't _that_ kind of dark that she had come to be used to. The lights were off in what appeared to be a hospital room, and light came streaming in through the windows. She looked to her lap, and noticed two things: her arm had been put in a plaster cast from her shoulder down to her finger tips. This was unsurprising to her. She had been keeping a mental catalogue of her injuries as time passed, with the goal of staying sane. All things considered, she felt… okay. She was breathing. The second thing she noticed was the figure sitting next to her in a lawn chair on the floor next to her bed, fast asleep. She stared at him, certainly for longer than she knew he'd be comfortable with. She didn't care.

He saved her, he really did. But she couldn't help from wondering- did he save the same person that went missing so long ago? She couldn't be certain how long it had been, and she certainly did not feel like the Sarah Walker he knew. She felt… disgusting. Even though the hospital staff had cleaned her up while sedated, she thought that she would never get rid of that feeling. Of being trash on the ground, her muscles deteriorating every moment she spent lying on the floor, injured, beaten, bloodied, bruised. She had no way to look at herself, but she couldn't imagine what he must see when he looked at her. Knowing the state he had discovered her in, naked, destroyed, she knew he didn't need to be told what happened to her. He would never look at her the same. She would never look at him the same.

Her soft whimpering sobs apparently woke him up, for he startled to his feet, throwing himself between her and the door, pointing a gun at the entryway before realizing what had woken him up. He quickly shoved the weapon in his waistband and turned to her, taking a few steps towards her before stopping at her natural response to lean away from his movements towards her.

Half across the room, he froze in place, looking at her with the kind of concern that she had always imagined he would while she was trapped. "Sarah," he whispered breathlessly, "I'm sure you have a million questions… or, maybe you don't, I could never know. I don't want to overwhelm you, but…" he seemed to battle with himself about what to divulge before settling, "you should know, we got all of the women out of there." She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. "They're safe, and recovering. Like you, Sarah, you're…" he trailed off, "safe." He swallowed. "Do you want some water?"

She opened her mouth, making an attempt at speech, but her lip shook and tears filled her eyes, and she could feel her whole body shaking with panic at the idea of forming words. "That's okay," he said quickly, "you don't have to talk. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, Sarah. Blink if you want some water." She blinked rapidly, not able to stop once she'd started. He took long strides to the table at the foot of her bed, where a pitcher and a glass stood waiting. He slowly made his way over to her, holding the glass in his outstretched hand, leaving as much distance as possibly between them. She took the glass with her good hand, and slowly but surely drank the whole thing. She didn't remember how healthy water tasted. She handed the glass back, he refilled it, and handed it back to her. "I figured you might not want to talk," he spoke slowly, trying to find the right words. _There are no right words,_ she thought to herself. "But I also thought there was a small chance you might have something to say, or ask, so i brought this." He revealed a pad of paper and a pencil that sat at her bedside table. "There's no rush, but when you're ready, I can answer any questions you might have. Whenever you're ready, Sarah." Privately, she wasn't sure if her still-numb hands would function enough to write.

At that moment, the handle on the door turned, locking out of place. The noise instantly triggered her, and as her eyes rolled back in her head she could see nothing but the same darkness that enveloped her in her worst waking nightmares, and she started to scream, that blood-curdling scream that she had gotten so used to, the one that ripped her throat raw.

"Sarah!" She was barely conscious of the team of medical professionals pushing Chuck out of the way, which only served to further upset her. _HE SAVED ME._

Soon enough, they had sedated her once more, and the consuming blackness went from the thing of nightmares, to something she barely noticed at all.

Okay I'm gonna try to get chapter three up tomorrow because i dont like suspense in these kinds of things any more than you do. spoiler alert: no matter how this story ends (i dont know how it will, i never do), this story will not have a sunshiney happy ending because no story involving rape ends in a happy story. If you are worried about something that happened to you or someone you know, call the national sexual assault hotline at 1-800-656-4673. you're not alone!

AGAIN IM REALLY SORRY FOR THIS I HAVE NO EXCUSE.


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